Saber___MMZ

Zero slowly pulled his saber apart, carefully placing the parts in a particular order and design at the workbench of his borrowed room. The only light came from the tiny window high on the wall, pouring a single streak of sunlight that conveniently hit his bench; the only sounds were the soft tinks of his metal saber pieces meeting the metal bench, and the clicks of his tools prying the weapon apart.

With blank eyes and cold face, Zero slowly, carefully, placed the last piece of the saber on the bench and stared at the pieces. It needed to be cleaned, which was his intention when he first started on it. Staring at it now, however, Zero offhandedly wondered why he just didn't get Ciel or that guy who specialized in weapons to clean it for him, or even stuck it into the computerized, general cleaner the Resistance had. But when Ciel asked for his company, Zero had awkwardly replied he needed to clean his weapons, and he had already finished the pistol's methodical cleaning before grabbing the saber.

It wasn't his original one, Zero knew. It had been upgraded and tweaked with to help fight the new enemies he had to face. He remembered, for some reason, his old saber required to always be in its charger he used to carry around on his back. Now its battery was improved and his charger had rotted away anyway… Then again, Zero didn't wake up with the thing anyway, the only weapon he had was, curiously, some random Buster pistol he never remembered being good with.

Someone had kept it for him, Zero knew as he slowly picked up a nearby cleaning cloth, already slightly damp with solution. They had cared for it, rather lovingly he could tell, while he slept. But who? No matter how much Zero wracked his brain, how many memories came to him each time he swung this tool, how that voice felt so familiar and comforting, Zero just couldn't remember who…

He remembered the voice, knew he knew it. He remembered hearing it a lot… as if he were always around it. That voice always spoke to him, about him… it comforted him, made his core pulse unexpectedly. It made him tense and relax; made him feel as if he should be expecting something. Who was it?

Zero stared at the part he was carefully rubbing the cloth against, the stream of sunlight catching it and making it shimmer. Before its upgrades, it was such a plain weapon. Yet there were memories, emotions, him and that voice pinned to this thing. If Zero closed his eyes and kept still, he could almost… almost see his old memories that were struggling to get out of their black bog, but always sank down before Zero could grasp them.

We'll be together… forever. Zero…

Zero dropped the saber piece. When its clatter on the floor registered in his mind, something just snapped, and he roared in frustration, sweeping his arm along the workbench. The pieces of the saber scattered, some even cracked on the floor, and Zero slammed his fist on the metal bench.

"Who am I!" he screamed to nothing. "Who am I, and why the hell am I awake!"

Nothing answered, and Zero slowly felt the sudden flash of anger leave him. With blank eyes and a cold face, he began to slowly, carefully, pick up the pieces of his saber.

His saber was much like his memory. Broken, and when put back together, nothing at all like it should be.